The Harlequin's Revenge
by MissScorp
Summary: Batman's greatest foe is believed to be dead, but his reign of twisted anarchy continues. Set during the events of the Harley Quinn Revenge DLC but follows the events of the Batman: Arkham City: End Game digital comic. Features Tim Drake as Robin, a tormented and depressed Batman, a psychotically insane Harley Quinn. T for violence and swearing.
1. Missing Knight

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but for the general story concept and theme...

* * *

There was a ring of police and news helicopters buzzing over the fallen mega prison once known as Arkham City. Once touted by Gotham's own Mayor as the miracle answer that was going to solve all of Gotham's criminal problems, Arkham City lay now in ruins. The lights of the choppers highlighted the dank decay of the old Gotham docks, the watery destruction of Amusement Mile and the blackened, twisted remains of what had once been Wonder Tower. It was obvious to everyone that the city was little more than an empty husk now. Nearly all of the streets had been cleared of the derelicts, degenerates, unlucky and mentally unstable that had been dumped behind the massive steel walls just a few short months ago.

But there was still one area of the city remaining that needed to be cleared of its filth, and the police helicopters circled over that district now, waiting and watching for Harley Quinn to reveal whatever it was she was plotting inside what had once been the Sionis Industries Steel Mill. On a makeshift bridge below the circling choppers, nearly all of Gotham's finest stood at the ready, waiting for nothing more than a signal from their Commissioner to tell them it was time to swoop in and sweep out the garbage that held their brothers in blue captive.

Above the police officers, two of Gotham's masked crime fighters were also staring at the Industrial District. Like the cops below, they were contemplating the various atrocities that could be taking place inside the Mill at that moment. And they too were concerned about the police officers that Harley Quinn had taken into her den of insanity just shy of three days prior. But they were also concerned about their missing leader, the mysteriously absent Dark Knight, wondering why he had not contacted them, and trying to figure out what had happened to him.

Neither admitted that they were secretly worrying about whether or not he was alright. And neither so much as whispered that they were concerned that Harley Quinn had obtained the ultimate vengeance for her fallen _puddin_' by finally killing his arch-nemesis. Even at his worst, Batman was ten times smarter, faster and better equipped than Quinn. But the seed that had been planted years before was now a shrub, its roots firmly planted in their minds and its whispery vines reminding them about how he'd nearly died once at the hands of the new God, Darkseid. Finally, the smaller of the two figures turned to the other, her eyes bright behind the black domino she wore.

"I don't like this," she said. "I don't like this at all."

"I don't like it either, Fe," he replied in a soft voice.

"He promised to stay in touch." She prowled to the edge of the building and back. "And as soon as the blasted man left that damn cave, he stopped all communications with us."

"That sounds totally like Batman."

She turned to frown at him. "Yea, well, I shoulda dosed that stubborn man with ketamine and handled this myself."

"You'd have had better success at dosing Quinn."

"I threatened to do that, actually."

"How did he respond?"

She made a face that was disgruntlement and a good deal of shame and guilt.

"By locking me in the trophy case that contains Dick's original Robin costume."

Tim laughed, couldn't help himself. "I'm surprised Alfred let him get away with that."

"Ah," she shuffled her feet, and then finally just sighed. He would find out the whole story as soon as they got back to the Manor anyway. "It mighta been Alfred who suggested he lock me in there, actually."

"Really now?" Tim cocked an eyebrow. "And why was _Alfred_ the one to suggest locking you in one of the trophy cases?"

"I _might_ have threatened to blow up the Steel Mill if Batman was not going to listen to reason."

He snorted. "Overreacted there just a little didn't ya?"

"Maybe a little," she allowed. "But considering how the damn man fell right into the trap Alfred and I were warning him that this was..." she sighed, scooped hair out of her face. "I shoulda done something more to have kept his ass at home."

"You did do something," he slid his hand to the back of her neck, felt muscles that were strung tighter than piano wire and tried to smooth some of the tension away. "You called me."

"Only after the idiot met with calamity."

"If calling Batman names helps you with dealing with your worry and anxiety, I'll leave you to it. As for me," he turned to leave. "I'm going to go and find him and ask why he cut all communication with you as soon as he left the cave."

"Wait," she said. "I'm going wit-"

He turned back, cut her off with a firm and decisive; "No."

"Tim-" she gritted.

"I said no, Raya." He shook his head before the retort he saw in her flashing eyes could gurgle past her lips. "Bruce asked you to remain at the Manor and take care of Damian. He's not going to be pleased as it is that you disobeyed him and came into Arkham City with me."

She couldn't argue with that and Tim knew it._ Blasted man_. She knew Bruce was going to be angry with her for ignoring his directive and entering the prison rather than remain at the Manor and watch out for the youngest Wayne family member. But damn it, it wasn't like he'd given either Alfred or her much of a choice after they'd lost contact with him. There'd been nobody else to help them deal with the venerable and obstinate Batman. Tim had been in Russia with the Titans, Dick was in Florida taking care of business related to the circus, and Jason was off in the Middle East with the Outlaws. That left only Damian, Alfred, Barbara and herself to deal with the moody Dark Knight.

"What would you have had Damian and I do, Tim?" It wasn't a growled answer. Raya just sounded _exhausted_. "We were the ones guarding the Bat while you were away. And that's not an easy task on a good day."

"I know-" Tim began but Raya shook her head to stop him.

"This is not the first time, nor is it the _third_ time that Batman was nearly caught in a trap set by one of his foes."

Tim had not known that Bruce had walked into multiple traps. "Wait-" he began but Raya just shook her head again to stop him. He gave in with an exasperated sigh.

"The first night you were gone, he was ambushed outside Helix Pharmaceuticals by goons that work for my father. I was there that night to stop them from succeeding in trapping him. The next night, what should have been a routine patrol ended with a run-in with Killer Croc. I conned Jason into tailing him that night. But even that wasn't the worst trap set for Batman," there was an edge to her voice now. And her eyes had gone as hard as jade. "Oh no, it was not even close. Because you see, the worst trap was the one that was set by that goddamn clown. That goddamn pasty-faced freak who'd had a contingency plan in place for if he didn't find a cure in time for his illness. That goddamn psychopath who'd decided he was going to take Batman to hell with him as his final act of _love_. But yanno what Tim? That wasn't even the worst thing to happen in the last fourteen fucking days."

"Raya..."

"I'm not done," she snapped.

Tim held up his hands in silent surrender. He could recognize an edgy and overwrought woman when he saw one. And he was not about to be the one who got the ass kicking that she was just itching to deliver._ Sorry Bruce, but you've earned this one_.

"The worst was in not being able to stop Batman from walking right into that murdering psychopath's trap. The worst was in having to sit in the Batcave and watch satellite footage of Arkham Island being ripped apart by a bomb that neither you, nor _he'd_ anticipated being planted. The worst was in having to wait and wonder if he was coming home that night. And the worst was in thinking that you were going to have to finally make that dreaded phone call to his children... the one telling them that their father is _dead_."

Tim again opened his mouth to speak. "Ra-"

"I'm still not done."

Tim realized a wise man would have already known that and decided to his mouth shut.

"When you and Dick are not here to keep an eye on Batman, to help balance out that darkness that perpetually exists within him, it falls onto me and Damian. And we do what Robins are supposed to do: make sure that Batman comes home every night. But we're only capable of accomplishing so much, Tim. And given the big black Kevlar wearing wall that we've been up against?" She sighed and shook her head. "We just weren't able to do enough."

The bloom of ripe temper that had suffused her, energized her, drained out of her at that moment and Tim saw fatigue breaking through to haunt her face. And that her eyes had filled with tears.

"Okay, come here."

"I'm okay," she said in a watery whisper.

He merely ignored her protest and took her hand, tugging her into his arms. He thought she'd balk, at least at first, and was surprised when she merely slipped her arms around his waist and burrowed her face against his shoulder.

"This will turn out alright, I promise."

"I keep telling myself that this will turn out alright. That he's okay. That I'm worried for nothing. But he's been gone two days now, Tim. _Two_."

He ran a hand over the cap of her hair. "I'll find him."

"I don't like sending you in there blind," she said in a quiet voice. "Quinn could have set a trap for you just as she did for Batman." She lifted troubled eyes to his. "What better memorial to the Joker could there be than for her to trap and kill both Batman and Robin?"

_What better memorial indeed_, Tim thought darkly. But he just smiled at her, teased, "Guess I won't be as stupid as Batman and fall into her trap, huh?"

"I'm so gonna tell him you said that."

He grinned cheekily. "It'll be worth the extra patrols."

* * *

**A/N:** This is my take upon the events that occur right **before** the Arkahm City DLC called **Harley Quinn's Revenge. **There is also a specific influence from the Batman comics going on here, most especially from the Arkham Series (which needs its own category!) comic** The End Game.**

This is also written in response to prompt challenge #5 over in the Randomness Lounge, Too forums. The Green Room challenge prompt for this said;

_Write a crossover between two or more fandoms. Gold stars if you do it without making either world AU, especially if your plot could feasibly have happened during/in the background of canon events._

Challenge accepted.


	2. Fathers & Daughters

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but for the general story concept and theme...

* * *

Commissioner James Gordon paced back and forth amongst the Police cars, vans, buses, and motorcycles that flooded the bridge. News choppers as well as Police helicopters whirred overhead, their spotlights sweeping the highways below them. Even the canine units stood at the ready. Nearly every Gotham City Police Officer-be they on-duty or off, was ready to go in, to hunt down, to bring to justice the mad woman that held some of their own in a diabolically concocted plot to trap Batman. He stood watching the choppers in the distance before he was joined by Detective Harvey Bullock, a longtime friend and member of Gordon's personal task force who asked;

"Heard anything from the kids yet?"

"No," Gordon pushed his glasses up his nose, rubbed the back of his neck. "Fenix said she'd report back just as soon as Robin made it inside the Mill."

"Quinn ain't in the Mill, Jim."

Gordon looked over at him, his gaze sharp with intensity. "What?"

"She ain't in the Mill." Bullock handed Gordon a sheaf of grainy photographs. "It looks like she's holed up in the shipyard. There's been a bunch of activity back there in the last half hour. Ask me?" He took a long pull from the cup of coffee someone had stuffed in his hands a few minutes ago. "Whatever Quinn's got planned is gonna go down here. And if you ask me? It's gonna be going down sometime soon."

Gordon looked at the pictures: a group of thugs with black eye makeup and white faces were gathered around a huddling figure that was clearly dressed in patrol officer's clothing. Then he raised his eyes and glimpsed movement in the shadows near the old Gotham City Radio Station building.

"Let me brief Fenix on what you found out," he told Bullock before stepping away. He joined her in a dark alcove between the radio station and the abandoned complex that was next to it. "Robin got in okay?"

Raya nodded and looked down at the photos that he held in his hand. "Quinn's holed herself up in the old shipyard?" At Gordon's nod she sighed. "Has there been any sign of the remaining officers?" She paused for half a second before asking, "Or Batman?"

Gordon heard the worry and concern in her voice, saw that her body was as taut as razor wire and heaved a silent sigh. The past two days had been unbelievably stressful on them all. And the lack of news, of even a sign of the Dark Knight's whereabouts, combined with the worry about whether or not he was still alive, was beginning to take a toll upon them all.

"No," he said finally. "And Harvey thinks that whatever that deranged woman has planned is going to be going down soon. There's been a lot of movement in the shipping bay within the last half hour."

Raya said, "I'm going to go and give Robin a hand."

Gordon had already deduced that that was going to be her reaction to his news. That she'd managed to refrain from busting into the Mill with proverbial guns a blazing the moment it became clear something had happened to Batman was amazing to him. His niece wasn't exactly known for being patient when a member of her family was in danger. He wasn't sure if Raya's remaining out of the Mill was because of his ability to make her see reason, her own level of discipline and training, or her sworn vow to the Dark Knight that she'd stay out of the Mill. He liked to think it was a combination of all three.

"Batman asked you to stay out of the Mill and Arkham City for a reason young lady," he reminded her gently.

"And I remained out of both Arkham City and the Mill for every reason he specified," she said. "But the rules have since changed. And the reason's to stay out are no longer valid explanations for why I should remain on the sidelines. Not when Batman is in there somewhere and we have no idea about whether he's alive or dead."

"Isn't this why you asked Robin to go in and find him?"

"We sent Robin in there blind," she pointed out. "We put him at a disadvantage when we were not able to tell him about what to expect once he got inside the Mill. He knows nothing about the movement going on in the shipyard." She heaved a sigh. "This is why I need to get deeper into the Industrial District. Robin needs whatever information I can gather in order to stop Quinn and rescue both the police officers and Batman."

Gordon told himself that he should have kept the information about where Quinn had centralized her operation quiet. But he had never been dishonest with Raya, not even when telling her the truth had caused her an endless amount of pain and suffering. And he knew exactly what was bothering her the most about the kid being inside the Mill unprepared: the likelihood of it turning into another well laid trap.

He reached up and took off his glasses, took a minute to fish around in his pockets for a rag to wipe the lenses with before saying, "yanno the kid won't walk blindly into a trap."

"Batman did."

Gordon knew that if he voiced to much concern or showed any outward sign of a familial connection between them that he could compromise her identity as the Fenix. But there just wasn't a switch that he could flip that turned off his _dad_ mode. And for all intents, purposes and to the world at large, he _was_ this girl;s dad. He didn't need blood or a birth certificate to substantiate that. He'd chosen to be her dad. Because the one she'd been given was a no good, murdering son of a bitch.

"I know that you're blaming yourself for Batman falling into Quinn's hands. Don't. It isn't your fault."

"It is my fault. I should have called Robin when I saw that Batman was in trouble."

Gordon grunted. "He would not have listened to the kid any more than he was willing to listen to _you_."

If there was one thing she could always count on James Gordon for, it was to tell her the truth. No matter if she wanted to hear that truth or not. Her lips curled upwards.

"How is it that I am the one with the degree in human behavior but you understand Batman better?"

"I've been dealing with him a whole lot longer than you," Gordon replied. "I know just how stubborn a man he can be."

"Is that why you entrusted Batman with keeping me out of trouble?"

"I also know how stubborn and willful you can be." He smiled when he heard her snort. "Figured that if I pit you against someone who is even more stubborn than you would ensure you'd remain out of the hands of men like the Scarecrow."

"Anyway," she said on a long, drawn out sigh. "You said Quinn is holed up in the shipyard?"

"That's what it looks like."

"Then around there is where I will focus my surveillance. I'll report in just as soon as I learn anything that might be useful."

Gordon knew it was pointless to ask her to stay there with him. He knew she wouldn't. Not with Batman and now Robin inside Quinn's domicile of madness.

"Just be careful," he said on a sigh. "I don't want to see you fall into the hands of any of the goons Quinn's got working for her."

"I'll be careful," Raya promised before firing a line at one of the passing police helicopters.

Gordon watched, filled with serious misgivings and doubts as the helicopter banked to the left and disappeared among the others circling the Mill. Only when he could no longer identify which chopper carried its unknown passenger did he turn and rejoin Bullock.


	3. Release them, or else

Deep within the bowels of the old Sionis Shipyard, Bruce sat in his glass prison, quietly reflectively upon the sequence of events that had led to his capture by Harley Quinn. He knew that being trapped by Quinn was nobody's fault but his own. He had known he was running on empty. The last two weeks had been nothing short of sheer and absolute misery. But he just wasn't able to cast off the feelings of unquenched rage and repressed grief that had been plaguing him since the night that he'd spent locked within this failed prison city experiment. Because of it, he'd become reckless and careless, stubborn and blind. Foolish! It was clouded emotions that caused deadly mistakes. And many a superhero, himself included, had nearly lost his life because his or her head was full of doubts and concerns.

Bruce had always known that the decades long feud between him and the Joker was only going to end in either one, or the both of their deaths. But even after everything the Joker had done—to the people of Gotham as well as to him and the members of his family- he'd still planned to save him. That the Joker had reacted in his typical impulsive fashion and caused him to drop the only vial of antidote that would have saved his life was a moot point. _He_ had failed to save the clown's miserable life.

He told himself that he should be happy, that he should be relieved. His feud with the Joker was now over and he could move on. But instead he felt empty, hollowed out. What emotions that were throbbing inside him now were heavy and cold, and coasted thick with sticky layers of guilt. Pain rippled as he shifted into a more comfortable position. He knew bruises had already spread, creeping over his skin in a sickening shade of peridot. Bruce reminded himself that he was accustomed to pain, that it was part of the consequences associated with his night life. But that didn't mean he had to enjoy it he thought as a fresh wave of white hot pain shot up from his ribcage.

He should never have ignored Alfred's recommendation about him taking time off to not only heal the myriad of cuts and bruises that he'd sustained physically, but give time for the emotional wounds he'd sustained to heal as well. And he told himself that he shouldn't have scoffed at Barbara's pleas to call Red Robin and Nightwing home. And he told himself that he should have acquiesced to Raya and Damian's repeated requests to help him with rescuing the cops that Quinn was holding hostage. The ghost of a smile creased his lips as he thought about his vitriolic little imp.

Bruce felt only a momentary contrition over having used his youngest son as the means by which he'd kept Raya grounded to the Manor and the cave. Damian had been the only weapon in his arsenal, the one person in all of Gotham that he could utilize to keep his fiercely loyal and extremely independent imp out of trouble. But he told himself that it had been necessary to take such an extreme measure. Scarecrow was on the loose in Gotham City still. And keeping Raya from falling into the doctor's hands was one of his primary concerns.

Admittedly, he was surprised that neither Raya nor Damian had come in search of him. It either meant that they'd chosen to remain at the Manor as he'd requested or that somebody—most likely Alfred, had called either Tim or Dick home. Bruce had a feeling that it was going to turn out to be the later. But with the communication hub in his cowl not working he couldn't get a signal, or message in or out. He suspected that the reason for that was because Quinn had either built a signal jammer into his cell or hidden one in another part of the shipyard to prevent him from contacting one of his associates for help.

Time began to blur itself as Bruce remained locked in his cell, drifting in and out of a meditative state. Noises came and went from the varying parts of the shipyard. Harley Quinn herself passed in and out of the chamber in which he was being kept, alternating between hurling accusations and curses at him and making cryptic proclamations about, "payin' homage to her _puddin_' very soon." By the end of his second day of captivity, though, his mind began to play tricks upon him.

"You should have listened to me, Bruce." He looked down to see that Raya was standing on the platform below his cell. Those hypnotic jade eyes regarded him somberly, pensively.

"You should not have come after Harley Quinn alone," she scolded gently. "You should have agreed to bring either Damian or myself along with you to help. And."

_I'm hallucinating_, Bruce thought. His isolation was beginning to take a toll on him mentally.

"You are not really here, Raya," he rasped. "You're nothing but an illusion. A figment concocted by my imagination and which is a product of my extended isolation."

_Raya_ did not bother to deny it. "Of course I am not really here, Bruce. But you want me to be, and that is the point. Even as you face certain death at the hands of Harley Quinn, you are thinking about me. And I am left wondering, why?" Her head cocked to the side. "Why are you thinking about me and not one of your boys? Or about my cousin Barbara even?"

"Because you are special to me."

"As are you to me," the petite girl stated with a warm, affectionate smile. "But I don't believe that my being special to you is why your thoughts are of me at this time. Why are you really thinking about me, Bruce?"

"I..."

He fell silent as a memory surfaced. They were sitting on the stairs in the main hall of the Manor. It was the first time that Raya had spoken to him about the man who had murdered her mother. "_M__y mother," her voice had vibrated with the force of emotions storming through her. "Was taken away from me by a vicious man. A man who is so filled by greed, and a ridiculous lust for power that he will murder anyone that gets in his way. And right now, I am in his way. Because I know his secrets. I know what he did. And to keep me quiet, to keep me from spilling his secrets, he will come after you and Dick. And he will try to take you away from me. Because he knows that it will destroy me if I were to lose either of you_."

A tapestry began to unravel in his mind. He knew exactly why he was thinking about Raya and not his sons. It was because there were a ton of things still left unsaid between them. Things that he should have said to her a long time ago, questions that he should have asked, admissions that he should have made. He looked down at her, prepared to open up, to bare his soul, but he was prevented from saying to this illusion what he was unable to say to the woman when Harley Quinn came storming into the room, shouting into a small handheld walkie talkie.

"Well, Bat-brains here was supposed ta help Mr. J!" her voice a shrill, tinny note that grated upon Bruce's already fraying nerves. "He allowed him ta die! And that makes him no beta than a murderer!"

"It wasn't Batman that killed the Joker." Bruce's head lifted when he heard that smokey voice crackle over the walkie talkie. "It was the Joker's own impetuousness that caused him to die."

"How would ya know, doc?" Harley sneered the question into the tiny radio she held. "Ya weren't there."

"I knew when I began stitching the knife wound that was in Batman's shoulder."

Harley scoffed. "Well if'n Bats woulda just turned the antidote..."

"Spare me the bullshit." Bruce felt the ends of his lips quirk. His imp was not one to mince words. Least of all when a member of her family was in trouble. "You release Batman and the police officers right now and I will broker a deal..."

"Sorry, doc," Harley interjected. "But I gots big plans for these buncha losers."

"Harley," Raya said with as much patience as she could muster. But Bruce heard the nip, the nasty little nip, in her undertone. And recognized it as the rise of a dark and dangerous mood. Trapped as he was, technology blocked as he was, he couldn't remind her about how such conflicted emotions could make one blind and susceptible to an attack. As he well knew. "I don't know what you want. I don't know what you are exactly after here. If you're looking for vengeance, well, I can tell you that you lack the skills necessary to carry such a plan out."

"Oh, yea? And how would youse know?"

"Because I have those necessary skills," it was said smoothly, with the quiet assurance and confidence of a warrior who knew that they were well trained. "Skills I have acquired over a very long apprenticeship. Skills that make me a threat to someone like you. If you let Batman and the police officers go, then that will be the end of it. I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don't?" her tone dropped to a low, dark hiss. "Then I will come, and I will look for you. And when I find you?" there was a seconds pause. "I will break you."

Bruce could tell by the slight widening of Harley's eyes that she'd accurately understood the threat that was written within that coldly uttered statement. That Raya meant every word was abundantly clear to both him and the dark haired woman standing below him. But while Bruce took a modicum of comfort from hearing Raya's voice, he was not happy to know that she was somewhere on the outside of the Mill. But he told himself to bide his time, to wait until he could ask for himself just why she'd defied his command and entered the fallen city. Harley, on the other hand, reacted to her promise of violent retaliation with an explosion of psychotic rage. The walkie was the first victim of her temper tantrum. It shattered against the glass of his cage, raining bits and pieces of plastic and wiring down upon the concrete floor.

"C'mon idiots!" she screamed at the unlucky henchmen standing in her vicinity. Bruce watched as Harley stormed through a door that led towards the shipping bay. And as he watched the petite woman go, he realized one thing...

That he couldn't be more proud of his imp than he was at that very moment.

* * *

**A/N**: This is an AU piece that was _inspired _by the events that occur within the Arkham City DLC **Harley Quinn's Revenge. **This is **not** a game recounting or retelling for the record.


	4. Vengeance Revealed

Her boots made only a whisper of sound when she landed on the roof of what had once been a storage facility for the Sionis Shipyard. Her heart was racing faster than a thoroughbred's, her level of fear and adrenaline causing it to beat an erratic tattoo against her ribcage. This wasn't the first time that she had defied Bruce and come into the former city prison. And if the segue way of events from the last nine days was any indicator, this wouldn't be the last time that she'd end up disobeying him.

Raya knew that no matter what her reason for disobeying Bruce's directive was, it would not be good enough. No matter how much stress and anxiety he'd put Barbara and her through, no matter that he'd walked into the trap that they'd all been warning him about, no matter that every minute since they'd lost communication with him had felt like they'd been plunged into a race against the clock, all that Bruce Wayne was going to focus upon was the fact that _she'd_ ignored _his_ command and entered this goddamn city. She tapped her comm.

"Have you heard anything, Barb?"

"Tim found Bruce." The tension and exhaustion of the last three days had given her cousin's voice an edge. And reminded Raya that it had been more than thirty-six hours since either of them had slept. "Harley Quinn apparently had him trapped in some type of memorial that she built for the Joker."

"Was he able to spring him from the trap?"

"I don't know. Tim was working on a way to free him..." Barbara Gordon sighed. "But it has been over thirty minutes since I last heard from him. I'm worried."

So was she.

"I'm going to try and get closer to the shipyard to see if any of Quinn's painted baboons are saying anything even remotely useful about either Tim or Bruce."

She flipped on her thermals and made a quick scan of the perimeter surrounding the Mill and the Shipyard. Three henchmen, armed to the teeth with police issue sniper rifles complete with thermal scopes and laser sights were patrolling different zones. At least a half-dozen more goons patrolled the streets below with police grade AR-15 semi-automatic assault rifles. _Guess it's clear where those _missing _police weapons ended up_, she thought with a smirk. She wasn't concerned about the goons with weapons, though. She knew how to become one with the night, a shadow that moved silently, a ghost that the bad guys did not see until it was too late.

* * *

"Alright, I'm going to head in," she heard the woman on the other end of her comm say. "I'll contact you if I hear something."

"Going in?" Barbara repeated slowly, as if the words were said in a foreign language. "What do you mean that you're _going in_?"

"I mean that I am going to head into the Mill."

She swore though that she could not have heard her cousin correctly. Bruce, before he'd headed off to help rescue the cops from Quinn's clutches, had forbidden Raya from setting so much as her baby toe out of the Batcave. She decided that her sleep-deprived and over-caffeinated mind had concocted whatever it was she thought she heard. Because there was no way that Raya, even with as willful and stubborn and overprotective as she could be when it came to her family and friends, would have defied Bruce. _Wouldn't she though_? she asked herself silently. Immediately, the answer came back, _yes_.

"Raya," she said slowly. "Where are you at this exact moment?"

"On the roof of an old storage building that the shipyard would use to store large items waiting for transport."

"Have you lost your mind?" Barbara demanded. "Bruce..."

"What?" Raya snapped. "Fell right into the hands of that psychotic bitch all because he refused to listen when either of us were pointing out that his grief was leading him directly into a trap?"

Barbara could hear the razor sharp edge in her cousin's voice, and knew it as the sign of a reckless and dangerous mood. But it wasn't just Bruce that her cousin was worrying about. It was also Tim. If she'd heard only anger, she might have snapped back at her. But she also heard fear and worry. And understood it. Tim was someone important to her as well.

"What do you say we have an all-night, girls only bitch fest when this is all over with?"

"Sounds good to me." Raya fisted her hands as if she could trap the worry and fear inside them. "I'll bring the pizza and John Cusack movies."

"And I'll make hot fudge sundaes and pop open a bottle of wine." Barbara reached into the mini-fridge next to her for a bottle of water. Being the information broker for the members of the Batclan required that she keep snack items close at hand. But on those nights where leaving the custom computer station inside the safe room she'd custom built inside her tiny apartment could spell certain death for a member of the family, a fully stocked fridge and a coffee pot were her best friends. "If we're going to completely spoil our diets then we may as well go all out here."

Raya's lips twitched. "We're in luck, too. Ben & Jerry's ice cream is on sale at the store."

"Two of my favorite men," Barbara replied in as cheerful a tone as she could manage considering the dark and desperate situation they were still in. "Can never get angry at a pint of Cherry Garcia and Peanut Butter Cup."

Raya snorted out a laugh. "They don't tend to go walking into traps set by deranged women."

"Well," Barbara teased. "Depends on your definition of deranged. We do tend to get pretty serious about our ice cream."

"That's because our men tend to drive us that batty."

"That they do."

* * *

Raya moved over to the edge of the roof and stood watching the thugs pacing the street below. Part of her, that part which was the Fenix, itched to leap off this building and work out some of the aggression pounding at her with some physical action. But she'd promised Tim, and her uncle that she'd stay out of trouble.

"Barb," she said suddenly. "I never worry about Jason or Dick as much as I do about Tim." A well of emotion rose in her throat, thickened her voice before she could swallow it back. "Is it because I trust Dick and Jason more? Or because I somehow trust Tim less? See him as being less capable? As less qualified?"

"I think it's because you've nearly lost Tim twice," came the gentle reply. "And that the memories of those times are still prevalent in your mind. You are more protective of him. But you're just as protective of Damian."

"Damian is barely twelve," she pointed out. "Tim is almost twenty and a fully trained crime fighter."

"Raya," Barbara said seriously. "We've seen the scars, changed the bandages and washed their blood from our hands often enough to know that beneath the Kevlar and Nomex are flesh and blood men. And no matter how old they are, or how well trained, they can, on any given night, and by any given perp, be killed."

"I don't like Tim being in there blind." She admitted finally. "Quinn all but giggled over whatever she has planned."

"You contacted her?"

"An hour and a half ago."

Barbara realized that that was about thirty minutes after Tim infiltrated the Mill. "What she say?"

"Just that she has plans for the cops. For Batman."

"What are you going to do?"

It was a good question. What could she do? A helicopter flew overhead, its bright light illuminating a broken skylight in the roof across from her. A visible skylight answered that question. She could help is what she could do.

"I'm going to go and help Tim."

Knowing there was absolutely nothing she could say that was going to stop her cousin from entering that shipyard, Barbara sighed and merely said, "Just be careful."

Raya's lips crooked upwards at the corners.

"Hey, don't worry. I'm nowhere near as reckless..."

Whatever else that Raya was going to say came out as a gurgle as a sudden explosion lit up the world in front of her, sending the thugs patrolling closet to the Mill flying. They smashed against walls before crashing down onto the ground. Staggered but still standing, Raya felt the scorching heat radiating from the building and saw that what had been little more than a chaotic, dimly lit landscape shrouded by fear and desperation was now being ruled by fiery madness. A second explosion came on her left.

Burning bits of wood and other debris blew into the sky and sounded like hail as it pelted the ground and surrounding rooftops. Raya's heart stopped and her gut cramped with fear for the two men who could still be somewhere inside that shipyard, caught in the direct path of that precision blast, trapped beneath a mountain of burning wood and red-hot metal. Or already dead.

"No..." she whimpered. "_No no no no_..."

"Raya, what's going on?" Barbara's voice crackled in her ear. Was shrill with her own fear and worry. "The police scanners are saying that the main building of the shipyard just..._exploded_?"

"It's gone..." her voice hitched, wobbled with her grief and fear and disbelief.

"What's gone?!"

"The main building of the shipyard," she whispered. "It's been blown to kingdom come."

There was a crash and bright flames streaked high into the night sky. She could hear Barbara saying something to her, but had no clue as to what it was. That _this_ was what Quinn had been intending from the moment that she'd broken out of police custody and stolen the explosives from the lock-up was now clear. It was the ultimate in terms of vengeance, the most diabolical of plans, the absolute most fitting tribute for a man known as the Harlequin of Hate. Raya was torn between wanting to rain bloody vengeance on Quinn and her henchmen or sinking to her knees and giving vent to the grief and rage threatening to consume her.

She climbed to the guard railing and used her night-vision to navigate a path through the smoke and dust. One unlucky henchman got his face smashed against the railing of the guardhouse after she back flipped off his shoulders and grabbed his head on her way down. There was a satisfying crack, then a much louder _thud_. Then she was plummeting through the billowing smoke towards a ground she could barely see even with her goggles aiding her. Her landing was softened by two unlucky thugs that just happened to decide to stop inside her chosen landing zone.

Raya had a split second of visual clarity and was able to brace herself for the impact. The thugs' faces cracking against the cold ground was quite pleasing to hear, and thoroughly satisfying to the blood-thirsty dragon awake inside of her. But Raya didn't stay around long enough to either enjoy her handiwork or to cuff the thugs for the police to round-up when they swept the District.

She raced towards the burning building, praying to every deity she could think of. _They got out_, she told herself. _They got out before that building exploded_. But the fear was a living thing inside her, eating away at her heart and soul like a malignant growth. She rounded a corner and was immediately plunged down to a whole new level of hell when she not only saw Harley Quinn racing towards an unsuspecting-but physically _alive_, Batman with a knife in her hand, but a thug with an automatic assault rifle appear from around a corner. It felt like time slowed to a crawl, her heart a hard drum blocking out every other ambient sound. Her only thought was that Quinn and the thug had one common objective in mind: to kill Batman. But then another, even more twisted realization crawled it's way through her brain: Her uncle could just as easily be caught in that thug's gunfire.

It was not going to happen.

Raya reached for one of her toxin-laced bo-shurikens at the exact moment that her uncle charged forward, his mouth forming soundless words she could not hear. Of Tim there was no sign. She put her full faith into his having made it out of the shipyard before it blew, convinced herself that he was on a building nearby and already in the process of letting one of his own projectiles fly. She let the shuriken leave her hand at the same instant that a wing-shaped shuriken sliced through the air and clipped Quinn in the back of the head. Quinn was knocked face down on the ground, dazed, but still conscious. Her own shuriken caught the rifle-toting henchman in the side of the neck, dropping him instantly.

The breath Raya had not realized she'd been holding came out in a _whoosh_ as she turned to see Tim, a little banged up and bloody, but alive nonetheless, come walking towards them. She felt an insane need to throw herself into his arms, to weep out her fear and grief and anger upon his shoulder, and then beat the snot out of him for having scared her senseless. But she knew that she couldn't do that. It would compromise their identities if she did. But she gave him a look that said in no uncertain terms that they'd be discussing things once they were alone. She could tell by the slight curve of his mouth that he understood, and that he wasn't surprised to see her.

The same, however, could not be said for Batman. He fixed her with a glare; one long and blistering stare that told her there was going to be hell to pay once they got back to the cave. Well, if he thought that he was going to bust her tail feathers for disobeying him after the hell that he'd put her and Barbara through-well, he had another fight coming she decided, returning his glare with one of her own. A small voice, an obnoxious and annoying voice Bruce wished he could reach inside himself and choke, reminded him he'd put her through hell. That his imp had remained outside the shipyard, watching and waiting, while Tim came to rescue him, spoke volumes. But he couldn't help the irrationality of his fear, especially in the wake of thinking he'd lost Tim. He glanced briefly at the dazed Quinn and the unconscious henchman before reaching for the grapnel gun attached to his utility belt.

"I'm done here."

And then he fired the gun and was gone.

* * *

**A/N**: Again, this is not a retelling of the **HQR** storyline. I do use the games end sequence, but it is only to set up a point in the story.


	5. Aftermath

Enough was enough.

She'd taken all that she was going to take.

She was not going to take any more.

No way.

Nah uh.

Not happening.

Not after the sleepless nights that had been spent pacing the floors of the cave.

Not after the endless amounts of worry and fear that had cramped their bellies.

Not after the grief had ripped their souls to shreds.

He was not going to simply zip away after all the hell he'd put their family through for the last two goddamn days.

Hell no.

Raya fired her grapnel gun a mere second after Batman fired his. Tim and Gordon could only stand there and watch as the two figures were swallowed up by billowing smoke and darkness.

"Well," Gordon sighed. "I think Batman's about to find out that our girl has one helluva temper..."

Robin's teeth flashed in the shadows. "I'm almost sorry that I won't be able to see the showdown between them. It's promising to be one doozy of a fight."

"Kid," Gordon wiped the lenses of his glasses on his pants before putting them back on. "Staying as far away from those two as you can right now is not only the safest thing to do." He looked at him, smiled slightly. "It is the wisest."

"I know," Tim said quietly. "And he's earned this."

"Yea," Gordon sighed. "I'd definitely say that he has."

But in the back of Gordon's mind was the realization that Batman did as he pleased. And this wasn't the first time that a bout of depression had almost cost Gotham her Dark Knight. But he also knew that if there was anyone who was most likely to get through those thick emotional walls, it was his youngest child. But that didn't mean he wasn't still worried.

No switch that turns off dad-mode, he thought as he turned to pull Quinn to her feet.

"Get ya damn hands offa me!" She tried to yank her arms free, but Gordon just tightened his hold.

"Quiet, you," he barked before pushing the mad woman towards a waiting group of officers. "Make sure that she's properly secured."

"Yes, Commissioner."

Gordon turned to say something to Robin. But the kid was already gone. Gordon stood there for a moment, silent. Then he chuckled softly. "Kid's getting more and more like Batman every day."

* * *

Raya knew exactly where that tall, dark and brooding figure was heading; the old GCPD building. It was where he'd stashed the Batwing after he'd journeyed into Arkham City two nights before. And it was where _she'd_ left the plane after _she'd_ entered the nearly vacant prison just a few hours before. She landed on the roof mere seconds after him, and saw by his expression that he was not overly surprised to see that she was the one who had followed him.

"I thought that I asked you to remain at the Manor and take care of Damian." It wasn't a growl. He just sounded exhausted.

"You did ask me to remain at the Manor," she said sweetly. Too sweetly, Bruce realized. "And you did ask me to take care of Damian. Which," she folded her arms across her chest. "I did remain at the Manor. And I did take care of Damian. Until it was necessary for me to come and investigate just why it was that _we_ lost contact with _you_."

"And you were the one who called Tim home when you realized something was wrong?" He saw her nod. "Then you did not need to come back into Arkham City. You should have remained at the Manor and taken care of Damian. As I _requested_ that you do."

The look she sent him should have laid him out cold on the concrete; Batman merely lifted a brow, deliberately challenging, silently baiting. He watched as those eyes became a predatory shade of green, much like a jungle cat stalking its prey.

"Oh, as you requested of me?" There was a quick, nasty nip to her tone. He heard it even as she did, but she did not apologize for it. Not this time. Enough was enough. "Well gee… maybe if _you_ hadn't decided to go walking right into the goddamn trap that Barbara and I both warned you that this was, I might still be at the Manor. Of course, if _you_ had done as I suggested and called either Dick or Tim home in the first place, none of this would have happened. In fact, _you'd_ be at home right now consoling _your_ son. As you damned well should be!"

His temper flashed—equally as dangerous as hers was at that moment.

"Do _not_ think to lecture me about my responsibilities, Raya."

She stalked; seriously _stalked_ towards him. Even in as foul a mood as he was, Bruce found himself mildly surprised and sufficiently impressed. And half tempted to smile. He had not realized that she possessed quite this much of a temper.

"Oh, I am most definitely going to lecture you about your responsibilities," she glowered at him. "And you're going to stand there and listen."

"Raya…" it was a warning. A warning which she outright ignored when she stopped in front of him and said in a hard voice;

"You are the only _father_ that your boys have! And they all need you! Grown or not, they need _you_!"

"They are grown men..."

"And still look to you to set the tone! To be the standard! Because_ you're_ the patriarch of this family! _You're_ its head!"

A vague note of hysteria tinged her voice.

"They were lost without you! You hear me? _Lost_!" She slapped her palms against his chest plate, again surprising him. "And I won't let you put them through that again! I won't let you hurt them like that again! Not because of that goddamn clown!" She slapped her hands against his chest plate, harder this time. "Do you hear me? I won't let you hurt them like that again! Not because of that fucking clown!"

He stepped closer to her, towering over her by a good six inches, and gritted; "I do not need you..." he took another step. "To lecture me about my responsibilities to my family."

Raya was not about to be intimidated though. She raised both her hands and shoved them against his chest.

"You're trying to intimidate me, and it's not going to work! Not tonight! Not after everything that you've put this family through in the last two days!"

"Raya..." he rumbled.

But his imp had gone feral. The grief, anger and fear had congealed inside her as soon as it became evident that Batman was in trouble. All those repressed emotions became liquid magma now, rolling hotly through her veins and clawing up into her throat, where the toxic gases pushed the lava out her mouth.

"No! Not this time! You are going to hear from me what none of them will ever say to you." She slammed her palms against his chest, hard enough that he felt it through the Kevlar and Nomex. "Things that they should have said to you three goddamn years ago when you were hanging on this very same damn ledge!"

"Raya..."

She poked him in the chest now with the tip of her finger; barked, "Quiet."

A muscle ticked in his jaw, was her only clue as to how tight a rein he was keeping over himself at that moment. But she was far from done. She slapped a hand on his chest before he could move around her. Bruce reached up and grabbed her hand in a bone crushing grip.

"I wouldn't push me much farther."

"Or what? You'll hit me?" She scoffed. "We both know that you'll never raise a hand to me. It's not the kind of man that _you_ are."

"Raya, you don't want me to get angry right now."

"Oh, get angry!" she snapped. "Get good and pissed off in fact!" she shoved him again. "We'll be on even grounds then!"

"What do you want, Raya?" He curled his fingers around the hand she was currently slapping against his chest. And yanked her against him. Hard enough to knock the breath out of her. "What is it that you want?"

"I just want..." temper shuddered back to twist painfully again with grief and fear. "I just want _you_, Bruce. I just want you here in my life. I want you here to bully and badger me, to lecture me when I make a mistake, to laugh with me during the good times, and love me during the bad." Tears welled, fell. "I've already buried one parent because of a sociopath's bullet. I _refuse_ to bury another."

Seeing that flash of pain stamped upon that staggering face, hearing it vibrate in her voice snatched the anger out of him. And reminded him of that fourteen year old girl who'd been traumatized and scared, and in desperate need of a father to help her understand just why it was that her mother was dead. That girl was still very much alive within this twenty-seven year old woman. And was still very much in need of her father to help her understand all the whys that were in their world.

"Come here, imp."

"No."

Bruce knew her refusal was just for show. And so he simply ignored her protestation by pulling her stiff frame into his arms and holding her tight. She gave up, gave in without making a sound. _As I knew you would_. He smiled as he ran a hand over the cap of her hair.

"You will not bury either me or Jim because of the criminals that we fight on a daily basis."

"Promise?" she asked in a small voice.

"Would I lie to you?"

She angled her head to look at him. "Yes, you would," she said seriously. "Your tendency to play things close to the chest is actually what pisses Dick off with you the most."

Only she'd think to point out to him about how often he and his oldest son crossed swords over something that he'd opted not to tell him until it was relevant for him to know.

Only she _could_, he realized.

He'd given her the right to fuss over and lecture him, to worry about his safety and be concerned for his well-being. And that was because he was as much her dad as Jim Gordon was. He'd chosen that role same as he'd chosen the role of Batman. He placed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"I will never lie to you about something like this. And," he swallowed around the lump that had gathered in his throat. Crow, he decided, tasted awful. "I am sorry for the worry and fear that I have caused you for the past couple of weeks."

"By God, Dick was wrong." There was that twinkle in her eye he saw. That sparkle that spelled _mischief_ in giant green letters. "You _can_ apologize."

He silently vowed that his oldest was going to be going out on triple patrols when he got home from his mission abroad.

"Let's go home…_brat._"

"Imp," she corrected primly. "My name is _imp_."

"Let's go home..._imp_."

"Much better," she graced him with a small smile. "And I call piloting the Batwing."

Laying a hand on her back, he nudged her towards the hovering aircraft. And said only;

"When you're older."

* * *

**A/N:** I hope that you guys enjoyed reading! Drop me a line if you did (or did not) like this story!


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